


g(ay/g)ood (m)omen(t)s

by SophieJE619



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Homophobia, Lesbian Character, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Lesbian Character, Reader is the Original Female Character, Ridiculously Wholesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-11-02 03:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieJE619/pseuds/SophieJE619
Summary: I have a feeling that title will change.Maybe.It's kind of witty, but I hate it.*Edit: I guess that title isn't changing, after all.*Anyway.I wrote this because it's rather personal to me. As a girl that was raised in a traditional christian home, it's difficult being attracted to anything other than a boy. Granted, my parents wouldn't kick me out if they knew, but how else would I justify the main character being just short of adopted by our favorite ineffable husbands?The point is: Enjoy. :)But seriously I hate that title.





	1. Well, Since They Invented Rain in the Beginning...

The rain pounded heavily on my back, as I aimlessly wandered the streets of Soho. The street lamps’ lights flickered in the windy night, still illuminating the cobblestone beneath my feet in a way that would remind one of a Van Gogh oil painting, but the beautiful shine was drowned out by the downpour before it could be appreciated. Not that I had the proper mindset to appreciate the subtle beauties of the world at that moment. The lights of the homes and storefront-apartment duos that lined the streets were beginning to turn down as perfect happy families finished supper and retired to their bedrooms until morning, how quaint.

A sudden rush of chilling wind and an up splash of water from a puddle hit me before I could think, snapping me out of a stupor I wasn’t even in! I almost didn’t react fast enough to see a jet black 1934 Bentley Derby Coupe disappear around the corner at break-neck speed. Not even caring enough to worry about the weight of the driver’s foot on the accelerator, I didn’t even bother to hope that he did or didn’t get in a car crash. I just kept walking, my soaking wet head hung low. At least my suitcase was water-resistant so my clothes shouldn’t be too soaked.

As I turned onto Greek Street the lights of the west end glowed through the rain, and I found myself frowning. I didn't feel much like dealing with the night life of this place, so I turned to go elsewhere, when my eyes were met with a rather inviting shop on the corner.  _ A.Z. Fell and Co.  _ The sign read,  _ Antiquarian and Unusual Books _ . The lights were on in the large windows out front, casting a warm glow on the cobbles of the curb. I was tempted to just turn and go, due to the fact that I was soaking wet and didn’t want to ruin the books, lest I’d have to buy them with money I didn’t have much of. But before I could turn around,  _ BOOM! CRASH! _ Came thunder and lightning unlike any I’d ever witnessed! “Yipe!” I squeaked, trembling in place before I quickly came to the conclusion that I’d best get inside. I went straight to the door of the bookshop.

The tiny bell rang quietly, signalling my entrance, as I paused on the welcome mat. The store was quiet, and empty, but obviously occupied by a resident due to the lights being on. “Hello?” I called, removing my coat and wringing it out under the awning, before I closed the door. The rain’s pitter-patter on the world outside was quieter now, as the building’s walls muffled the storm, thunder booming in the distance. “Hello?” I called again, tentatively stepping off the mat and further into the store. The well-worn floorboards creaked under my feet and I found myself scanning the shelves of the store with wonder. Many of the books were ones that I hadn’t read before, but a few familiar titles and authors could be spotted among the shelves.

Turning to the large bookcase near the base of a stairwell, I found myself looking to the bottom shelf on a whim. A black book stood out among the grey to red-ish colored leather bound works, with a pair of names inscribed on the side instead of just one. “Gaiman & Pratchett,” I muttered, pulling the book from the stocks of its comrades. “ _ Good Omens _ ?” As I was about to open the cover when movement at an archway to a second room caught my attention. I looked away from the book which had sparked my interest to see a nice-looking man staring back at me. His hair was a powdery off-white blonde-ish color, though he only looked to be in his mid 40s.

“Oh, good evening, Miss. Looking for anything in particular?” He asked, a kind smile appearing on his face. “Oh, no, thank you. I just happened across your shop and it looked so inviting compared to the storm outside, that I had to come in.” I said, a tad bit flustered for my still soaking wet appearance. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, I discreetly nudged my suitcase behind my legs with a smile. “Ah, of course. Well, feel free to continue browsing, Miss, I don’t close for another 30 minutes.” He said, disappearing into another room.  _ ‘30 minutes.’ _ I thought to myself.  _ ‘Oh dear, he must’ve been just about ready to start closing up for the night.’ _

I quickly put the book back in its place, before hesitating and pulling it back up. The cover depicted an angel and a demon with snake-like eyes.  _ ‘Oh, I love stories about celestial beings…’ _ My inner bookworm pined, and I decided to see how much money I had on me. “50 pounds.” I muttered, wincing at just how little I had to spare. I decided maybe seeing the price tag would be a good way to settle my want for the book, so I turned over to the back to check the price. But there was no number to be found. I felt my curiosity spike instead of plummet like I’d hoped it would, and I began to almost frantically search the book for a price.

Finally, after deciding that I wouldn’t find a price in the book, I ventured into the other room with it, looking for the man I’d been holding up. He was there, checking for dust on the shelves of a second bookcase, before he turned towards the sound of my approaching with a delightful expression. “Ah, I see you’ve found a book to your liking, miss?” “Yes, I am quite intrigued by this little treasure, but I’m afraid I can’t tell how much it costs. Could you please help me, sir?” “Ah, yes of course you wouldn’t find the price labeled on the book, my dear.” He said. “You see, I believe that all the books in my collection are too precious and invaluable to be, well,  _ vandalized _ by a number on the cover.” I blinked as he removed the book from my hands in the most polite of manners, before nodding and following him back to the first room. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” I said, thinking about the large bookcase of books I had in my room, back at home… I loved them all dearly, of course I wouldn’t be the only one to think of my books as priceless. “Still, if I’m going to buy a book from you, I ought to know how much I should pay you in return.”

The man hummed, seeing my point, and he went behind the counter at the front of the store so grab a monocle. “Ah yes,  _ Good Omens _ by Misters Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett. This is truly one of the crown jewels of my collection. You chose well.” I smiled, nodding at him so I could possibly get the price. “You know, this book is special from a great portion of my collection due to the fact that it has, not one, but two truly original copies. One for Mr. Pratchett, who was the owner of this bookshop before me, and the other in white for Mr. Gaiman. I was quite lucky to be able to keep this one after poor Mr. Pratchett’s passing.” The man said, lovingly running his thumb across the cover. I smiled appreciatively at his indulgence to the book’s history, still wondering what the price would be. “I was quite fond of this book, I was. Even now, simply looking at the cover again brings back such lovely memories.”

After a pause, the man turned his bright blue eyes to look at me, instead of reminiscing on the happy moments with his book. “You see, Miss. I'm very fond of all the books in this shop. You might even describe me as an overprotective parent to them all. And sadly that usually gives me cause to up the price. I’m particularly fond of this masterpiece, as I’m sure you would be.” I nodded in understanding, my eyebrows creasing. “So I can guess that you’ll be looking for a very handsome pay in exchange for that little treasure on the table?” “Yes. How does £80.00 sound to you?”

_ ‘£80.00!’ _ I thought, the number making me wince. Sure, I’d been expecting a high price, but never did I think it’d be something that I’d barely be able to afford half of! “£80.00,” I said. “Oh dear, I wouldn’t be able to afford that even if it was 40.” Shaking my head, I took and book and went to put it away in its place. “Oh well, I suppose it’s for the better anyway.” “I’m sorry, Miss.” The shopkeeper said, and I could see that he was genuine. “But you understand that it’s an original copy, of course it’ll be more expensive.” “Oh, yes of course, sir.” I said, giving him a smile. “And it  _ is _ for the best. After all, I forgot my brolly and I’d hate to take that gem out in this storm and have it ruined in the next five minutes.”

“Did you? Well, Good Lord, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you walk home alone in this weather? Where do you live, Miss?” The man asked, emerging from the counter and going to get his coat. My heart skipped a beat, but not in a good way, and I didn’t want to answer. Thankfully, the clock chimed before I had to tell him, and I was able to avert the subject. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I’ve been keeping you open. You go on a head and start to close up for the night, I live nearby, I’ll be able to make it home on my own.” I lied, putting on the sincerest, most apologetic smile that I could. The man could obviously tell that I was lying, but smiled anyway. “Of course! Of course! But I really do insist on walking you home, Miss. Nobody should be walking in this weather without a brolly. I’ll be quick to take care of the shop, you just wait right there.” He said, briskly going into the other room to lock the doors and such. Without another word, I grabbed my suitcase and slipped out the door.

I was halfway down the street when I heard the man calling out, “Miss! Wait!” I let out a sigh of defeat as he ran to catch up with me, an umbrella in his hand. “When I told you to wait for me, I said I’d be quick.” He said, with a twinge of hurt in his voice that made me feel guilty. “I just… really didn’t want to make you come out in the rain for me.” I lied, well, half-lied. “I’ve already told you, I live nearby. I’ll be able to make it home on my own.” Alright,  _ that _ time I lied. And it seemed that he was fed up with it too, because I was met with a rather unamused face from him. “Now see here, Miss, I know you’re lying. And while it’s not necessarily my place to demand the truth, I can tell you with certainty that I will not stand idly by and watch you run away from your home and family.”

I was silent for a minute.  _ ‘But, I’m not running away.’ _ I thought. “What makes you think that I’m running away, sir?” I asked, stepping under the brolly’s dome. “You’re a young girl, no older than 18, wandering the streets of London at night with a suitcase.” He said, and I could sadly see his point. “Now where do you live? Be honest with me so that I may take you home before the authorities need to be involved.” I pursed my lips and frowned. He wasn’t going to stop until I finally told the truth, that much was clear.  _ ‘Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, if it means he’ll leave me alone.’ _ I thought. “I used to live with my parents near Regents Park.” I began, earning a pair of raised eyebrows from the man holding the brolly. “But due to an unfortunate circumstance, I’ve recently found myself packing my bag and being thrown out on the streets. I didn’t want you to walk me home because, well,” I sighed. “I’m not welcome at home, I’m afraid.”

Silence. Even the sound of pouring rain and deafening thunder were irrelevant now, like a distant white noise machine and the simple creaks of an old house setting in its foundation. All around as you lay in bed at night, but irrelevant to the point that you barely hear them. That was the kind of sound (or lack thereof) that permeated the air around us, as the man I’d just met tonight looked at me with eyes so full of empathetic sadness for that he looked about ready to cry on my behalf. The look made me panic. I don’t need to be making another person cry tonight, the last few hours have already run my tear ducts dry. I was about to open my mouth to try and tell him it was alright, when I found myself being pulled into a hug that tried its hardest to be comforting, but only managed to be awkward due to us being strangers to one another, and him having to hold the brolly.

“You poor girl. Do you have any place to go?” He asked, and I began to wonder if this is how his books felt on a daily basis, with all the love and care he clearly showed for them. I opened my mouth to lie again, but no words came out. I couldn’t tell him another falsehood, I’d done enough of that for tonight. I’d surely get caught in my fibs again if I did. So I finally answered truthfully without being asked twice, and shook my head, ‘No’. That was all he needed. “Right then, come along, Miss. You’ll be sleeping in my guest room tonight and tomorrow I’ll help you find a job so you can get on your feet.” “Wait, what?” I asked, as he worked the suitcase from my grasp to ensure that I would follow him back in the direction we’d come. “I’m not letting you sleep on the streets, dear girl. It’s rainy unlike any storm I’ve ever seen and if you stay out here much longer you’ll surely fall ill.” He said, and my body involuntary shivered, as if to prove his point.

The bookshop felt even warmer now than it did the first time, or maybe the temperature outside was just dropping. This time, I followed the man up the staircase to a locked door, which he produced the key to. Inside he had a cozy apartment, with warm colored walls and rather retro-style furniture. A pristine white tiled kitchen that was straight out of the 60’s, a very cushy sofa and lounge chairs, paintings, sculptures and other various art pieces, and yet again more books. This man’s collection was  _ very _ impressive indeed.

I did as he instructed and hung up my coat on the rack above the waste bin. Water began to drip down off the garment at a constant rate. Drip, drip, drippity-drip. I turned my gaze away from it, as the man set my suitcase down on a towel. “Shall I make us some tea?” He asked, smiling. “Oh, sure— em. Yes, please, if it’s not any trouble.” I stuttered. “Splendid.” He said, going to set a kettle to boil. I kind of just stood there. What was I supposed to do? I was sopping wet and I felt bad about dripping water on the hardwood floor, let alone his rug and sofa. My awkwardness must’ve caught his attention, because he looked at me, quickly finished preparing the kettle and came over to me once it was set on the stove.

“The lavatory’s right through that door there, you can change out of these clothes and into something dryer, dear.” He said, pointing to the door. “Thank you,” I said, grabbing my suitcase and going to the door he pointed to. The bathroom was small, and nothing much to look at with the exception of a bright yellow rubber duck that sat on the edge of the bathtub. I smiled at the tiny detail. It looked so out of place, and yet somehow fit perfectly with the rest of the room. But my amusement was cut short as my feet began to freeze on the cold tile floor. I stripped out of the wet shorts and jumper I was wearing, followed by my bra and underwear. The room was colder now that there was no fabric to soak up the rain water that covered my bare skin. I opted to use a shirt that I wasn’t particularly fond of as a makeshift towel, since I didn’t want to nick another one of his. Rubbing myself off, I went ahead and changed into my most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

After wringing out the clothes in the tub, I emerged from the lavatory and placed them on top of my suitcase on the towel where the man had set them before. He came from the kitchen with two cuppas in his hands and invited me to sit. “Thank you,” I said, quietly accepting one from him and taking a sip. The Earl Grey taste was one that I loved very much, so it’s warmth and sweetness brought a smile to my face. “You have a lovely home, sir.” The man smiled, gazing at his books with the same love that he showed for the ones downstairs. “Why, thank you. Sugar?” “Oh, yes, thank you.” I said, as he gave me a spoon full before I pulled my cup back and gave it a tiny swirl. Taking a sip, the bitter undertones had melted away with the new addition. I hummed, contentedly.

The man began to talk about his book collection as we sat and drank the tea, and I found myself very interested in what he had to say. Every book had a backstory of how he came into possession of it, from the most personal tale about a dear friend passing, to one book quite literally falling into his hands as someone threw it out their window. It was a book for those of an acquired taste, he chuckled. I talked about my own interests. We thankfully shared a passion for books, though he preferred reading more while I enjoyed writing. “And to think that, not too long ago, Mrs. Woolfe wrote about the Angel in the House and how she often hinder a girl’s writing. What a lovely thing that history keeps moving forward.” The man pondered. “Indeed. Though it wasn’t  _ too _ recent, I still enjoy being able to write whatever I please without a moral consequence.” I nodded. “Mrs. Woolfe was quite the character for her time. I feel there’s much we could agree on.”

Soon enough, the clock chimed midnight. “Oh my, is it really that late?” I wondered aloud, testing the temperature of what little tea was left in my cup with my finger. It was cold. “That it is, isn’t it.” My conversation partner muttered, before getting up to put our cups in the sink to be washed in the morning. “Well then, come along, let me show you the guest room.” He said, and I followed him with my suitcase, soiled clothes, and the towel. The room was cozy, though not as personalized as the rest of the apartment. There were many paintings on the walls, yes, but something about the room made it feel spacious and airy. I couldn’t quite tell what it was. “It’s beautiful.” I said, setting the towel down by the waste bin and putting my suitcase on it.

“Oh, your clothes, would you like me to take care of those for you?” “Oh, are you sure? I can wash them, I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.” I said, and I would’ve said more had he not countered me with a smile, saying, “No, no, you’re my guest. I insist.” With that, my wet clothes were taken into his hands. “Now, you make yourself comfortable, miss. Good night.” “Good night.” I said. The man was about to walk out the door when I piped up. “You know, we were talking on your sofa for three and a half hours. And yet, during all that time, we never properly introduced ourselves.” The man sifted through the conversation in his head and quickly realized that I was right. “Well, what do you know? You are absolutely right, Miss.” He smiled, before extending his hand. “Mr. A.Z. Fell, and a pleasure to meet you. What might your name be?” I smiled and accepted the friendly gesture. “Gracelyn Rae Edwards.”


	2. Before the Beginning

_ Kate, delete this conversation off your phone. Now. _ I typed out the message with my usual proper grammar and punctuation, never misspelling a word despite my shaky fingers and tear-filled eyes. _ What? Why? _ She responded, not even a minute after me. _ What’s wrong love? _ I sat down on my bed, neatly made with lavender sheets, as I plugged in my phone into its charger to try and get my battery up as much as possible in what little time that I had left. _ I told my parents that I was seeing a girl. They’re not happy. _ I found myself quietly whispering the last message I sent as I wrote it. Much like I do whenever I write my stories, only those were fiction. This was anything but fiction. _ What?! Grace what did you tell them?! _ Came my girlfriend’s panicked reply.

_ Calm down. I never said your name. They have no idea that it’s you. And it’s going to stay that way. _ I typed fast. I was supposed to be packing, and they were only giving me so much time. “You have until 8:00 to pack your things!” My Mother said. “Then you’re out!” The clock currently read 7:30. _ What do you mean? Why do I have to delete you off my phone? _ Kate asked, and I could practically hear the worry in her voice. _ They’re kicking me out. In about 30 minutes, I’ll be on the streets. _ I wiped away a tear that was about to fall as I typed. I knew what she was going to say.

_ They’re what?! Love why didn’t you say something?! I’m getting my dad’s keys right now we’ll come pick you up _ She said. _ No. _ I replied. _ We have church on sunday. When my parents show up without me, rumors will spiral. I don’t want you to get caught up in this mess. _ 7:38, the clock read. I was running out of time. _ Look, we’ve been hiding my secret sexuality from all but one person: Reverend Paul. If he sees me show up with you and not my parents, he’ll know exactly what’s going on. I’m afraid that you’ll be turned out on the streets too, if your parents find this conversation, and I just can’t have that. _ Kate took a minute to read my messages over and over again, before replying, _ I will gladly get turned out on the streets if it means we can be together. _ I was floored.

_ Absolutely not! You may not be a perfect fit for your family either, but I’d rather you stay there than be forced to live in alleyways and borrow free wifi off coffee shops! _ I quickly responded. _ I will not let you have that sort of miserable life. I love you too much for that. _ 7:42. _ But I don’t want to lose you. What if we never see each other again? _ Kate asked. _ Oh, we will, my love. Believe me when I say, we will. I just want you to stay out of trouble for me. _ I said. _ Please? _ Silence. There was a pause before Kate said, _ Alright. _ I sighed with relief. 7:45. I had to go soon. _ I’m running out of time, love. I have to go. Try to get some sleep tonight. _ I said, getting up to finish packing. _ Oh yeah like that’ll be easy _ She said. _ Grace? _

_ Yeah, Katie? _ I asked, calling her by the nickname I like to use in a happy moment. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, but I wanted to make her smile. _ I love you. _ She said, and I could immediately tell that my endeavor wasn’t very successful. _ I love you too, Kate. More than anything. _ I replied. _ I’ll see you soon, but only if you delete this entire conversation, and my number. _ After making sure that she would, I quickly stuffed the rest of my clothes and a toothbrush into the suitcase. I barely had time to grab my phone and charger when my Father came into my room. The clock chimed the eighth hour as I made my way down the stairs and out the front door. I didn’t have time to grab a rain jacket or a brolly, or even my rainboots.

That was yesterday...

* * *

I woke up at seven the next morning, a decent hour to wake up at. My clothes from last night along with everything else in my suitcase were dry and folded neatly at the foot of my bed. The towel my suitcase sat on was fluffy and dry, and it sat on top of my suitcase, which had… _ ‘Did he polish my suitcase?’ _ I questioned, as I slipped out from under the covers of the bed. Picking an outfit out of the stack of laundry, I quickly got dressed, before placing all the clothes back in the suitcase and bringing the towel out of the room with me. “Good morning,” I said, seeing that Mr. Fell was in the kitchen. “Ah, good morning, Gracelyn! Did you sleep well?” He asked, chipper as a robin with a worm.

“I did, thank you.” I smiled. “Say, did you wash my entire closet last night or something?” “I did, how nice to see that you noticed.” Mr. Fell said, clearly proud with his work. I was flabbergasted. “Mr. Fell, I don’t know what to say!” “No need, dear. You’re my guest. Now, crepes?” He asked, pulling out the ingredients. I blinked. “Right. You’ve done enough for me, let me make breakfast.” I said. “My crepe recipe is the best outside of France.” Blinking in surprise, Mr. Fell took a few steps back to vacate the kitchen for me.

After breakfast, which successfully impressed Mr. Fell, I remembered the towel that I’d left on the sofa. Going to get it, I made my way to the linen closet, which was right next to the bathroom. “What are you doing, Gracelyn? I left that towel in your room, should you wish to take a shower.” Mr. Fell said. “I just figured I should return everything to its rightful place.” I said. “After all, I’m only staying until I can find a job. I’ll retrieve it if or when I need to.” Mr. Fell nodded. “That makes sense. Well, why don’t we go job hunting today, then?” “I’ll take care of that, Mr. Fell. You have a bookshop to run.” I said, going to touch his hand. “Thank you again, for being so kind. I’d probably have been sleeping behind a dumpster last night if it wasn’t for you.” Mr. Fell’s smile was so genuine, I saw his eyes twinkle at me. “I enjoy your company. That guest room was collecting dust until last night. The least I can do is make sure you’re safe.”

_ ‘Safe.’ _ I thought. _ ‘I’m safe. But, Kate doesn’t know that! Oh no, she’s probably worried sick!’ _ I quickly excused myself and went to the guest room. My phone was plugged into its charger, and the lockscreen picture of some random flower was quickly replaced with a picture of me and her on my homescreen. “Kate, it’s me.” I said, as Kate answered my call. “Gracelyn!” She whispered. “Oh my God, are you okay?!” “Yes, I’m alright. I’m staying with… a friend.” I said. “He’s letting me have his guest room until I can get on my feet.” “A friend? Where does he live? Who is he?” She whispered. “I’m sorry I have to whisper, I’m at home with my parents and they’re in the other room watching the news.” “I understand, it’s okay. He lives in Soho, near west end.” Kate sighed, and I could hear that she was relieved. “You’re safe? You’re alright?” “I’m perfectly fine, love. Don’t worry about me. Soon I’ll be on my feet, and I’ll be able to come see you.” I promised. “For now, just remember to smile.” After receiving her promise, I begrudgingly ended the call with a kiss to the microphone, and sighed. “Soon,” I said. “Soon, soon, soon.”

“Are you alright, Gracelyn?” Mr. Fell asked, as I emerged from my room again. “I’ll be fine,” I nodded. “We really ought to get going. You have to open soon.” Mr. Fell nodded, and we grabbed our things. After quickly turning on all the lights, I helped him prepare to open by dusting off the shelves and giving the windows a quick wipe down. Finally the turning of the sign was the last thing to do, which I of course left the honor to the owner of the store. “Well, now that you’re all set, I’ll see you around…” I thought for a minute. “3:00 PM?” “Why not 11:30? I’m having a good friend over for lunch, you can join us.” Mr. Fell inquired. “Oh, alright, I’ll see you then.” I said, before leaving the bookshop and taking a left. 

There were many restaurants that had just opened, as well as a few stores around that had help wanted signs posted. I walked into the first one, a clothing store, with a large bay window featuring things I’d like to wear on a nice day in the park. “Hello, Miss. How can I help you?” The girl at the counter asked, as I came up to her. “Yes, hi, I saw that you have an advertisement in the window. I’m looking for a job.” The girl’s eyes lit up, and she said, “Of course, I’ll go get a job application for you. We need someone to clean the floors and whatnot.” _ ‘So long as it’s a job.’ _ I thought. “Brilliant, I’ll get back to you with this application tomorrow?” I said. “That’s perfect, see you tomorrow, Miss…” She trailed off, looking for my name. “Gracelyn Edwards.” I told her. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

A great deal of the stores went something like that, and by the time I was walking back to Mr. Fell’s bookshop, I had a grand total of 10 job applications from varying stores and restaurants. As I entered the bookshop again, the little bell on the door to signal my arrival. “I’m back.” I called, to no response. Odd. “Mr. Fell? Are you in?” Still no response. There was, however, a note on the counter.

_ Gracelyn, I’ve gone out for a quick appointment with a fellow book dealer. I’ll be back by 11:30. My friend should arrive sometime around then. If he arrives before me, just tell him I’ll be there shortly. - A.Z. Fell _

“Huh,” I glanced at the clock to see that it was around 11:00. “Looks like I have 30 minutes to myself.” Deciding that the job applications could be filled out after lunch, I went back to the bookshelf that held _ Good Omens _ and plucked it up. “Now then, without a certain Mr. Fell wanting £80.00 in return, I can finally read you.” I said, settling into a chair with treasure I’d found.

I’d just gotten to the description of the hell demon Crowley’s car. A 1926 Black Bentley, truly a beautiful thing, and his pride and joy. Funny, that the car I saw last night practically fits the description of this car. As I was thinking of the event, I didn’t hear the doorbell chime, signaling that someone had arrived. I didn’t even realize he was there until I found my book being cast in the shadow of someone. I looked up to see a man glaring down at me. Well, at least he was glaring from what I could tell. I couldn’t see his eyes.

“Hello.” I said. “I’d ask if you need help finding a book, but I’m afraid I don’t work here.” “I know you don’t work here, and I’m not looking for a book.” The man sneered. “Ah, so that must make you the friend Mr. Fell’s having lunch with. He’ll be back shortly, he told me to tell you.” I said, turning back to the book. “Who?” The man asked, confusedly. I looked back up at him with a look. “Your friend. The one who owns this bookshop?” I responded. “His name’s on the sign outside.” “Oh right,” He said, looking away from me. “That’s not what I know his as, that’s why.” “Right,” I said, “Of course, that makes sense.” I went back to the book, and the man just started meandering around the shop for a few minutes until he asked. “And, who exactly are you?”

“Oh, my name’s Gracelyn. Mr. Fell is… hosting me, for the time being.” I said, hoping he wouldn’t ask about why. “Really? Why?” Damn it. “Um… just, until I can get settled into this new… Um, life of mine.” I said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s nothing permanent.” I could tell he was suspicious, but before he could ask any more questions, the doorbell rang and in walked Mr. Fell. “Ah, Crowley, I see you’ve met my guest, Gracelyn.” _ ‘Crowley?’ _ I thought, nodding to the men with a smile, and going to put the book back. "A pleasure." “And you,” Crowley harrumphed, with a nod back. “Are you ready for lunch, Angel?” I froze where I knelt. _ ‘What did he just call him?!’ _ “Yes, I’m quite ready. Would you care if Gracelyn joined us?” Mr. Fell smiled.

I turned to face the men, locking eyes to sunglasses with Mr. Crowley. He kind of just frowned at me, and I found myself averting my gaze in submission. “Yeah, alright, sure.” He said, and I put the book away and stood up. “Alright then, let’s go.” We made our way to the door, where Mr. Fell locked it. All the while, only one thought was in my mind. _‘These two had better be gay.’_ That is, until we got to Crowley’s car. “Wait a minute.” I started, when I saw the same 1934 Jet Black Bentley from last night. “Is that _your_ car?!”


	3. A Tree Full of Monkeys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a picture of Gracelyn (purple) and Kate (aqua), if anyone wants to see them. :3
> 
> (I love my precious baby girls so much!!!)

“Yeah, it’s my car. Why?” Crowley asked, and I felt my face heat up in anger at his nonchalant tone. “First off, you almost drowned me in drain water last night, when you were going 90 down Greek Street in the pouring rain. Secondly,” I paused to admire the pristine masterpiece of automotive art. “How did you not wreck this gorgeous paragon, driving that fast?” “I don’t hit anything.” He said. “How though?” I asked. “I drive around the other cars.” He was grinning. “Gracelyn, you’re not going to get an answer that’s any more clear than that. It’s best you just stop asking and get in the car.” Mr. Fell said. “Alright?” I said, getting in the back seat.

Big mistake. He drove just as fast as he did last night if not faster. When we finally reached the restaurant, I could breathe again. “Does he always drive like that?” I asked Mr. Fell, as I climbed out of the car on shaking knees. “Unfortunately, yes.” He said, sighing in disappointment. _ ‘He must really be used to it if that’s how he reacts to Crowley’s driving.’ _ I thought. “Well then, with no offense to Crowley, I think I might walk back to the bookshop after lunch.” I said, trying to blink the tears of terror from my eyes and regain some of the color in my face. Crowley scowled at me. “Offense taken.” I winced. “Oh leave her be, Crowley, it’s her first time in your car.” Mr. Fell said. “Now, let’s go in. Do you like italian, Gracelyn?” I smiled, steppin into a restaurant that I knew as _ Pesantissimo _. “I love italian.”

Lunch was a delicious affair. While enjoying a pizza, I found myself making light conversation with the men I dined with. Mr. Ezra Fell was a bookworm of course, but he also enjoyed the theatre, opera, and music. Over all, the man was truly a delight of a person. Mr. Anthony J. Crowley was more hardened and unapproachable than his friend (significant other?). He enjoyed movies, the night life, and had a variety of house plants which he tended to. This last detail surprised me for some reason but soon I realized that it wasn’t surprising at all. I don’t know exactly how I came to this conclusion, but I did.

“So, how long have you two known each other?” I asked, forking myself a bite of the slice I held. “A very long time.” Mr. Fell said. “As long as we can remember.” Crowley nodded. “And you, Gracelyn? How did you and _ Ezra _ come to be friends?” The odd way he emphasized his companion’s first name stuck in my mind, but quickly fell on a back burner as I had to answer. “Oh, well. It was a stormy night, and I was walking around the streets of Soho when I came across his bookshop.” I said, glancing at Mr. Fell with a half-panicked look in my eyes. “He was just so welcoming, he offered to walk me home. How could I not consider such a delightful man as my friend?” Mr. Fell offered me a smile with crinkled eyes. He was slightly disappointed, I could see, but anyone else would’ve seen his face and thought that he was flattered by my words.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, and I blinked innocently. I wasn’t about to tell him that all this was last night, so as far as he was concerned, I’d given him the whole truth. After a minute of scrutinizing me, he shrugged and that was the end of it. The chitter died down for a few minutes while Ezra and I ate, but once we were finished, it resumed with a new merriment that was brought about the satisfying feeling of fullness. When the waiter came with the bill, I internally cringed at the number, feeling the need to pitch in towards the price. I pursed my lips and went into my pocket. However, before I could pull out the £50 note, Mr. Fell caught my wrist. “Absolutely not, Gracelyn. You need that money, don’t even think about spending it on lunch. This is my treat.” He said, paying the bill before I could respond.

I sat there in stunned silence, blinking every minute or so as not to stare. “Oh come now, dear. I’m hosting you in my home, I’m not going to make you empty your pockets on a single meal.” He said, when he finally caught me staring. Crowley snorted at me in amusement, and I felt my cheeks flush red as I glanced at him. I felt so dependent on this saint of a man, it wasn’t fair. And he didn’t even know why I’d stumbled into his life to begin with. “Well, I’d best be going if I’m going to be walking back to the bookshop…” I said, setting my napkin on the table. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Crowley. I’ll see you soon, Mr. Fell.” “Are you sure I shouldn’t accompany you, Gracelyn?” The bookworm asked. “After all, Crowley does have somewhere to be at 1:30.” I hesitated and checked the time. 12:45. “Hmm, well, what say you, Mr. Crowley?” I asked him. Crowley’s head shifted between me and Mr. Fell, before shrugging, “It’s all well and good with me. I can head off now.” Mr. Fell donned an appreciative smile. “Excellent. Come, Gracelyn.”

We all exited the restaurant, and Crowley gave one last adieu to the pair of us before getting into the car and speeding off. Once he was gone, I said to Mr. Fell, “Your maintained composure while riding in that car will never cease to amaze me.” “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean unless you define my maintained composure as my ability to form coherent sentences.” He said. “Even my heart can’t help but race in that car.” “That’s exactly what I mean.” I laughed. We began our walk back to the bookshop with smiles on our faces. But as I looked at our surroundings, I began to recognize the house I once lived in. My face paled and my eyebrows creased. Mr. Fell seemed to notice my shift in mood and looked around at the street. “Is this place sensitive to you, Gracelyn?” “This is the street I used to live on.” I said quietly. “Oh, my apologies, dear. I didn’t know.” Mr. Fell said, suddenly matching my current emotions. “It’s alright, let’s just go before the neighbors see me.” I said, picking up the pace.

We walked faster, me with my hands buried in my pockets, and him with a tense look on his face. I couldn’t stop my eyes from lingering on the door and windows of my old house, taking in every detail that I once took for granted. The lights and telly were on inside, signaling that my parents were home. I had to wonder if they saw me walking along this street. As my gaze lingered on the house, I didn’t notice Mr. Fell open and close his mouth, multiple times. It was only until he worked up the courage on his own that I finally realized he was trying to say something. “Gracelyn, I know I said it’s not my place to ask but, would it upset you to talk about it?” I found myself blushing in shame. I don’t know if he’s gay or not, nor do I know if he’d continue to host me. So I simply shook my head and said, “It’s too soon, Mr. Fell. And even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t utter a word of it here.” Mr. Fell nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Whatever it is, I’d be honored if you came to tell me, but only on your own time.” I smiled at his words. “Thank you for understanding.”

* * *

She smelled like sand and coconuts from down the pew, and her entire person matched it. Her hair was blonde and faded into a carribean ocean aqua. Her icy blue eyes scanned left to right across the hymnal as she moved her lips to form the words of _ Great is Thy Faithfulness _. I can’t say that I was stricken by cupid’s arrow right at that moment, but I at least wanted to know where she got her hair dyed. “Gracelyn,” My mother tapped my shoulder, pointing to the hymnal in my hands. I nodded, returning my gaze to the lyrics.

“You may be seated,” Pastor Paul said, as he stepped up to the pulpit. We all sat as instructed, and he began to review the church calendar. But as he droned on about the upcoming fundraisers for the back to school celebration, I sensed someone looking at me. Sparing a quick glance at my parents, whose eyes were glued on the clergyman of course, I found myself looking to my left. The girl from before was looking my way, her big blue eyes meeting my violet ones. She seemed as interested in me as I was in her, so I let a tiny smile form on my face. She matched it, and when we were called to pass the peace, we moved right for each other.

“I love your hair, where did you get it styled?” I said to her. “Thank you, I dyed it myself.” She said. “Are your eyes naturally that color?” I smiled and nodded. “They’re amazing!” We exchanged our names, but that was all we could do before other church goers dragged us apart with their ‘good morning’s and ’peace be with you’s. Sitting back down, we found ourselves sitting ever so slightly closer to each other on the bench. She was Kate, not Katelyn, just Kate. And I was Gracelyn, not just Grace, Gracelyn. It seemed like such an odd coincidence. I’d only seen her in the service a couple times before, it was said she’d attended a different church for a long while. But that sunday was the day that she and her parents were made official members of our church, the newest members of the family.

After the service, I went up to her and her parents, welcoming them to the church. They accepted my good Christian fellowship, and we went our separate ways. I didn’t know if I would become friends with the family, or simply be nice acquaintances. At that time, I had no idea that I would be anything more to Kate. But the next day was the first day of school, and there I bumped into her again. And again.

And again...

* * *

By the time we got back to the bookshop, it was a quarter to 2:00. When we returned to the bookstore, I told Mr. Fell that I was going to fill out my job applications in the guest room. He nodded and returned to putting books back on the shelves. Closing the door behind me, I said with my legs crossed on the bed, a pen and a stack of paper in hand. Filling out job applications is a tediously easy thing, but I did come across one tiny difficulty on the first form. My permanent address. I wasn’t living in my parents’ flat anymore. What could I put for my permanent address? Surely not the address of the bookshop. I furrowed my eyebrows. I had to write something for the prompt. If I didn’t, they’d believe that I lived full time with Mr. Fell, which wasn’t true. I was just a guest.

I stared down at the paper, the hand that held my pen, frozen just above the line on the white surface. I was tempted to lay it aside and go on to the next application, but that form also had a prompt for a permanent address. They all did. I sighed, deciding to just go on and fill out what I could. About an hour later, after having completed all the applications as best I could, I found myself returning to the question of permanent residence. I didn’t hear the door open, or Mr. Fell walk in. “Hot cocoa, dear?” He offered, sitting down on the side of the bed. “Oh, Mr. Fell, I didn’t hear you come in.” I said, moving a few papers away to give him more space. “You made hot chocolate?” He nodded, offering the cup in his left hand. “Thank you,” I said, taking it with a smile.

The drink warmed my center as it passed through my mouth, not too hot, but not lukewarm either. “How are things, up here?” He asked, glancing at my papers scattered about on the bed. “Heh, well it may not seem that way, but things are going productively.” I nodded. “I’m just… well, I’m just caught up in second guessing the final details of each and every application that I’ve touched.” Mr. Fell hummed in acknowledgement. “Maybe I can help.” He suggested, looking down at the application in front of me. I trusted him not to nick my national insurance number, but I still found myself getting anxious, as he looked over the paper at my answers. He said nothing about the application on its own, but he looked at the others, too, and I could see him making the connections as to what I was struggling with.

“A permanent address.” He muttered. “You have everything else handled perfectly, except a permanent address.” I winced. “It sounds a little bit stupid when you put it that way. Ridiculous even.” Mr. Fell’s eyebrows went up. “No, Gracelyn. Given your situation, this is perfectly understandable.” I looked at him. “It is?” “Of course. Think of it this way: You just got evicted, while in the middle of looking for a new job. That’s something that happens to many people. It’s not ridiculous at all to not have a permanent address.” He told me. “But if you really need an answer to the prompt, you’re more than welcome to accept the shop as your permanent address.”

I froze. “Come again?” “Well, if you leave it blank, then the shop will be considered your permanent address, and you can always file to correct the address later, once you find a place of your own.” Mr. Fell shrugged. “Personally, I don’t mind you calling this place your permanent address, since you’ve been a delightful change in regards to company, Gracelyn.” I found myself nodding at him, despite my desire not to encroach on his home. “Thank you, Mr. Fell.” I said. “Ezra, dear. Call me Ezra.” He replied.

“Thank you, Mr. Ezra.” I corrected myself. Drinking the hot cocoa with him, a comfortable silence settled. Once we were finished, I offered my services with housekeeping, since I needed something to do with myself. Mr. Ezra was taken aback at my zeal to work. “Dear, you seem to be unable to sit still for too long.” He laughed. “I just don’t want to be a freeloader.” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “You’re not, Gracelyn.” He assured me. “I invited you into my home, I insisted you take my guest room, and you’re already pulling your weight by looking to get on your feet. I can’t ask anything more of you, dear girl.” I nodded, seeing that he wasn’t going to lose this little skirmish. “But, if you really want something to do, help me make biscuits.” He smiled.


End file.
